As I proceeded, I found myself wondering how the worms hunted. Was it sight or smell, or did they sense our vibrations through the earth? I thought back to the first one I’d seen, the one that had eaten the bird. It had leaped from the ground. The one in the shed had been concealed beneath the floor, but had it known we were there before Carl started stabbing it? The creatures that had come slithering out of the woods were above ground, so that seemed to indicate that they had seen Carl. But then the big one, the granddaddy of them all, had come straight up out of the earth, tunneling towards us from below. How had he known we were there? Maybe he heard the gunshots and the helicopter crash, or sensed us walking above him? Or, was it possible that the other worms communicated with him somehow, maybe through some kind of telepathy, and let him know that lunch was served?
And why did they eat us, anyway? Their smaller cousins ate dirt, if I remembered correctly. They drew their nourishment directly from the soil, absorbing the nutrients and minerals and expelling what they didn’t need. Why couldn’t these big ones do the same and just leave us alone? Lord knew there was plenty of dirt around, now that the floods were killing off all the vegetation. Why couldn’t they just eat that?
Once again, I found myself thinking that, while I may have been the smartest man in Punkin’ Center, West Virginia, I sure didn’t know a whole lot about worms.
My heel came down on a shard of metal, and then I stumbled over another piece. I’d found the crash site. More wreckage loomed out of the mist, twisted into sinister shapes by the darkness. The rain pelted it all, clanging softly off the steel and fiberglass. The feeling of being watched increased, and the little hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The ammonia stench grew stronger.
I heard a weird sound then, trickling water, like there was a stream nearby. But that didn’t make sense. The closest creek was down at the bottom of the hollow, almost a mile away—well past the place where I’d searched for teaberry leaves. Still, I looked down at the ground, and sure enough, there was a stream of running water at my feet. I wondered how that was possible, since I was standing in a relatively flat field.
I took a few more steps and then I could see the debris scattered all around me, pieces of the helicopter and personal belongings that had been tossed out by the impact: food, empty water bottles and soda cans, a cracked wristwatch, scorched clothing, a ripped tent, broken survival gear. I spotted the cockpit seat, but it was empty. The worms had eaten all three portions of Cornwell, even his scraps and guts. Even his blood was gone, washed away by the rain.
The sound of running water grew stronger now, and the current licked at my heels. Debris washed by me. I still couldn’t see where the stream was going, but the flow increased and I started to get a bad feeling.
Then the ground suddenly gave way beneath my feet.
I teetered on the edge of a great hole, the one left behind by the worm that had eaten Salty earlier in the day. The water was pouring down into the chasm, and the mud along the sides of the hole collapsed underneath me. My arms pinwheeled helplessly. I started to slide and took a step backward, plunging the rifle stock into the ground to stop my fall. I took one faltering step backward, then another. More mud slipped into the hole. A plastic water bottle floated by and disappeared over the edge.
Hyperventilating, I cursed myself again for being such a stupid, weak old man, driven by his need for a chemical fix. I’d almost fallen into that hole and there was no telling how far down it went. I could have been killed, or worse yet, I could have hit bottom and broken my hip or some other bone. I imagined what it would be like to lie there at the bottom of the crevice, shivering from the cold and the pain and unable to move or see. Would the walls have collapsed on me—smothering or crushing me to death—or would I have stayed alive long enough to hear something slithering towards me in the darkness while I lay there helpless and paralyzed?
This quest was idiotic, and I knew that now. I was thinking clearly again and all of my nicotine dreams had fled, replaced with a healthy dose of pure terror. I decided to turn around and head straight back to the house. Sarah would be getting worried by now. I’d been gone for far too long. I couldn’t risk her coming out into the night to look for me.
I started back in what I thought was the direction I came from, and that’s when I spotted it—a carton of cigarettes, lying half submerged in the mud.
Instantly, I forgot all about dying, all about the worms and their burrows. My fears vanished. This idea hadn’t been stupid or pointless. It had all been worth it after all!
I knelt down in the stream, sat my rifle aside, and pulled the carton from the mud. The cardboard fell apart in my fingers, but the cigarette packs themselves were sealed in cellophane. I held my breath as they fell out.
Oh please be dry! Please be dry! That’s all I’m asking…
I picked up a pack and it turned to mush in my hands. The water had soaked through the cellophane, making them useless. I tried another pack, but it was ruined, too.
Without thinking, I said, “Damn it!”
Something hissed in the darkness.
Instantly, the fish stench became overwhelming. I froze, peering into the mist, not wanting to see it but looking just the same. The creature hissed again from somewhere to my right and I heard it wriggling through the mud. My hands began to tremble and the last soggy pack slipped from my fingers and floated away in the current.
The worm snorted, sounding like a bull getting ready to charge.
Please Lord, I prayed in silence. Please, Lord, get me out of this. I’ve lived a good, long life, and I’m willing to come be with you and Rose and the rest of my family whenever you see fit to take me, but don’t let me die like this. Not this way. Don’t let me die inside the belly of one of these things. That’s no way to go. I promise you I will never pollute my body with this crap again. Even if I ever do find some, I won’t let a dip pass my lips, if you’ll just send that thing away. It can’t end like this. What’s the point, God?
“Teddy?” Sarah’s voice echoed in the distance. The fog seemed to distort it. “Are you okay? You’ve been out here for ten minutes.”
The worm snorted again, and began to splash around in the mud. My hand crept slowly towards my rifle.
“Teddy? Teddy, are you out here?”
It started slithering away from me. I still couldn’t see it, but I could hear it as clear as day.
“Teddy, where are you? Answer me!”
The worm moved faster now, making a beeline for Sarah’s voice. Here was proof that they hunted at least by sound.
So I let it know exactly where I was.
“Sarah! Get back inside the house! They’re coming!”
My voice sounded small and weak, and the fog seemed to mute my words. I wasn’t sure if Sarah heard me or not, but the worm certainly did. It hissed angrily, and two more answered it from either side of me. The ground trembled with their approach.
“Sarah, run!”
Jumping to my feet, I seized the rifle and ran. I ran like I hadn’t run since I was in my twenties. I ran like a rabbit being chased by a pack of beagles. I didn’t look back, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to see much in the darkness, anyway. But all around me were sloshing sounds as the worms gave chase.
The cold air wheezed through my lungs, burning my throat. My knees and calves groaned in protest. I’d been pushing my body hard the last few days and now it was letting me know that it was unhappy with the situation. My muscles rebelled and a fresh burst of pain spiraled through my limbs.
I slipped in the muck, fought to keep my footing, and lost precious seconds, allowing one of the creatures to gain on me. It lunged out of the darkness on my left, covering the distance between us in seconds. Its pale body was obscenely swollen and coated with glistening slime. I skidded to a halt. As the thing bore down on me and opened its maw, I raised the rifle and fired. The blast lit up the night for a second, but then the light was gone, along with what was left of my night vision. The shot ripped into the quivering, rubbery flesh, and stinking fluid gushed from the wound. The worm writhed, from what I guess was pain. Its entire body contorted with spasms.